Few have earned the term “punk pioneer” like John Holmstrom, who founded the magazine that gave the genre its name. An editor and illustrator, he ran Punk Magazine from its founding in 1975 till it folded in ’79. He established deep East Village roots and has lived in the same 300-square-foot, rent-stabilized apartment since 1977, giving him a front-row seat to the area’s complete transformation. A new collection, “The Best of Punk Magazine,” arrives this week. This is his Punk Rock New York.

1. CBGB, 315 Bowery, at East 2nd Street

“I can’t bring myself to go there now. We ran into Lou Reed there and interviewed him, and that’s how we put out our first issue. The Ramones were playing Thanksgiving weekend on a Sunday night. The place was pretty much deserted. We got the front-row seats, 5 feet away from the Ramones. We heard that Lou Reed was in the audience. He gave me all night to talk to him. He had so much interesting stuff to say, and I turned it into a comic strip.

2. Manitoba’s, 99 Avenue B, at East 7th Street

“Handsome Dick Manitoba was the leader of the Dictators, and he opened this bar in the ’90s. It’s kind of like a punk-rock shrine — lots of great photos of punk rockers all over the bar by the best known photographers, and very good-looking women behind the bar who are mostly punked out. It’s one of the rare East Village punk bars left. One of the bartenders was like, ‘A chick was in here ordering a cosmopolitan.’ I’m like, ‘What, are you kidding? This is the East Village!’”

3. Gem Spa, 131 Second Ave., at St. Marks Place

“It’s a newsstand, and they serve egg creams. They advertise the world’s best egg creams. It’s a real East Village institution. It’s always been the cultural center for downtown New York. Gem Spa has been there forever. Nobody can remember when it wasn’t. It was put on the map when the New York Dolls took the photo for their first record in front of it. It’s the real heart of the East Village.”

4. Continental, 25 Third Ave., at St. Marks Place

“It’s a dive bar now, but I saw a lot of great shows there when it was still punk rock. There’s this band called the Bullys. My friend Johnny Heff ran them. He also worked as a firefighter. Lost his life on 9/11. I remember one time he’s on stage at the Continental, and some firemen come in the back. The management’s freaking out, because that usually means they’re getting closed down for a fire violation, but it turned out they were just friends of Johnny’s.”

5. Trash and Vaudeville, 4 St. Marks Place

“They were our first advertiser in Punk Magazine. This is before they sold punk clothing. They were a hippie shop, but they stayed with us anyhow. It’s the closest thing to real, original New York City punk left in New York, I think. It should be a landmark. Iggy Pop shopped there. All the rock stars. Joey Ramone always got his straight-leg jeans there. That’s the thing about Trash and Vaudeville — they had black straight-leg jeans back then. You could never find black straight-leg jeans anywhere. Everything was bell-bottom or flare.”

6. Max’s Kansas City, 213 Park Avenue So.

“Max’s was like the other club to CBGB’s. It was a lot smaller with kind of a low ceiling, and they had tables. David Bowie introduced Devo there, but it was so packed I couldn’t see anything, so I ended up leaving. I saw a couple of good Ramones shows at Max’s. And I saw Tiny Tim there. He was doing this medley that never ended, a 90-minute song medley. You wanted to stop and applaud, but you couldn’t, because he kept going.”

7. 225 Lafayette St., at Spring Street

“This was our second office. Every time I’d go home, I’d pass the Ravenite Social Club. I always wanted to go and find out how to become a member, like, ‘Hey guy. I wanna hang out here and bring my friends. It looks like a cool place.’ I probably would have got whacked. There were all these big Cadillacs parked on the street, and ahead of me were these two Italian guys in polyester suits, and behind me a couple more. I was like, ‘Uh-oh.’ I shut up.”

8. The Punk Dump, 356 10th Ave., at West 30th Street

“That was the first office of Punk Magazine. It was a big storefront that cost $195 a month. When we started the magazine, we started calling everything “punk”— our car was the Punkmobile. We were the first people to really go nuts with the “punk” word. We had a great party for Christmas in 1976, and everybody came. We have great pictures in the book of Debbie Harry dressed like Santa Claus.”